A Midspring Night's Loki'd
by OwlinAMinor
Summary: It's sort-of like A Midsummer Night's Dream, only a lot more confusing, and it was all Loki's fault. Krismas present for Kris (IgneusGlacies). Destiel, Superhusbands, Johnlock, Jack/10, Zukaang, Harry/Draco, Loki/Clint. (Or, in fandom terms: Supernatural, Avengers, Sherlock, Doctor Who, Avatar, Harry Potter.) Oneshot.


**Title: A Midspring Night's Loki'd**

**Pairings: Destiel, Superhusbands, Johnlock, Jack/10, Zukaang, Loki/Clint, Harry/Draco, Jack/Cas, Tony/Dean, CAPSLOCK (Steve/Sherlock), Aang/Harry, I honestly don't even know**

**Fandoms: Supernatural, Sherlock, Avengers, Doctor Who, Avatar, Harry Potter**

**Genre: Romance & Humor (yay)**

**Summary: It's sort-of like A Midsummer Night's Dream, only a lot more confusing, and it was all Loki's fault. Krismas present for Kris (_IgneusGlacies_).**

**Length: oneshot**

**Dissing of the Claims: NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE MINE. NONE OF THEM. NOT EVEN CLINT. SORRY.**

**A/N: The sixth Christmas present fanfic I'm posting. (I wrote all of my friends these fanfics for Christmas because I'm broke.) This one was one of the funnest to write, but also the hardest, because LOOK AT ALL OF THOSE PAIRINGS. JUST LOOK AT THEM. It's literally at least twice as long as all of the other fics I wrote. Oh, and also, my little sister beta'd. Because reasons. Enjoy the insanity~**

* * *

It's an old proverb, an excuse of sorts, known and used by parental figures throughout time: everyone makes mistakes.

Sometimes, they're small, forgivable mistakes: _oops I left my math notebook in my locker_ mistakes, or _oops I bubbled in the wrong answer_ mistakes, or _oops I didn't carry the four_ mistakes. Sometimes, they're larger, but still fixable mistakes: _oops I emailed the wrong person _mistakes, or _oops I forgot the paper was due today_ mistakes, or _oops I called someone the wrong name_ mistakes. Sometimes, they're huge, embarrassing mistakes: _oops my shirt is backwards_ mistakes, or _oops I proposed to the wrong girl_ mistakes, or _oops I grabbed the real gun instead of the cigarette lighter that looked like a gun_ mistakes.

Still other times, very rarely, they're massive, earth-shattering mistakes that threaten to destroy life as we know it.

Odin's decision to trust Loki with the lust potions was one of those mistakes.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Odin was an old king of the gods, a wise king of the gods, a just king of the gods, and, much too often for his liking, a bored king of the gods.

So, he was forced to find ways to entertain himself to staunch the debilitating boredom. He trained harder, he studied old texts, he was harsher on his sons, but none of that helped. And then, he stumbled upon the delicious nature of romantic comedy.

I'm not talking chick flicks here – no, Odin was far too majestic to bring himself to such a low level. Besides, such female-oriented movies were usually fake – the actors were rarely actually in love with each other, and that ruined the entire appeal.

Odin needed something real. He needed something better, cuter, sexier than any stupid movie.

He needed _gay love_.

And he found it: in a small, illustrious, private, _all-male_ boarding school just outside London, England.

There were a few couples in particular that Odin had the pleasure of observing: the constant, sarcastic banter of Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, and Steve Rogers, all-American poster boy; the unwavering loyalty of Sherlock Holmes, brilliant psychopath (no wait, sociopath, he seems to be offended by the word psychopath), and John Watson, kind and noble doctor in training; the secret longing of Jack Harkness, the most infamous flirt the school had ever known, and John Smith, quiet, studious, awkward lover of reading; the barely-hidden want of sassy, wise-ass Dean Winchester and stoic, expressionless Castiel Angelicus; the open animosity of arrogant, sneering Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, the brave boy who lived; the close friendship of tiny, bouncy, quirky Aang Kongqi and honorable, Asian prince Zuko Huo.

Watching those boys fight every day, picking out the gestures, the glances, the words that revealed their true longing … It was the best entertainment Odin could ever have hoped for.

There was only one problem, however: _the peasant's were not aware of each other's feelings._

It was the boys' last year of high school, about time they started realizing their true feelings, but _noo_, they just _had_ to be insecure and cowardly and stupid, and continue to hide them. Odin had never been so frustrated before in his life; he wanted to take these boys' heads and smash them together, demanding, "I require you to kiss promptly!" so much, it pained his chest.

It got to the point where Odin couldn't work, couldn't concentrate on anything, because he was so frustrated with their stupidity. He kept imagining possible scenes, creating potential scenarios in his head, then rejecting them because his case seemed hopeless.

Naturally, being a king of some incredibly powerful gods, he decided to fix the problem himself. With some lust potions.

Never heard of a lust potion before? Silly peasants, of course you haven't. You've only heard of _love_ potions. The boring stuff. Hearts and flowers and all of that romantic nonsense. Lust potions are entirely different. They don't affect the mind or the heart – they affect the _dick_. They program it, so that it can only get hard when in the presence of a certain individual, and it will always get hard in the presence of that individual.

Odin ordered Freyja, goddess of love and lust, to fix up some of her most potent potions. She was a little curious, but agreed, because he was her king, and kings have overpowering supremacy (I would be a much better king than Thor, idiot Father) over all. He then needed a person to administer the potions – they had to be administered to the dick of the boy, and the first name that popped into the boy's head when he was next masturbating would be the person he lusted after.

The king of gods considered his options: he couldn't go himself, as he was too kingly to visit Earth; he couldn't send Thor, as Thor was grounded for accidentally starting another war; he couldn't send Heimdall, as Heimdall needed to be around to open the Bifrost; he couldn't send Sif or the Warriors Three, as they'd cause more problems than they'd fix; he couldn't send this person, he couldn't send that person …

Oh, wait! Loki needed to be punished for sticking an Alden (sort of like frogs, only slimier, and they excrete semen every five seconds) into Thor's bed that one time, and he hated going down to Earth. He could do it.

And that was where Odin made his mistake. He trusted Loki to administer lust potions. And get them right. He trusted the _god of mischief_ to _administer lust potions _on_ the correct Midgardians._

Do you see why this might have been an issue, readers? Even peasants should be able to see it.

Odin didn't, though, because Odin, although a wise king, is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He simply gave Loki all of the potions, then instructed him about whom he was to administer them upon.

Loki traveled through the Bifrost to that school in the outskirts of London, and the plan seemed a go.

It was a night in early May, with about a month left in school, when Loki arrived. It didn't take him too long to locate the boys' rooms (there was a list of room assignments on the main bulletin board) and prepare the potions for administering.

Steve Rogers, nicknamed Captain America (or Cap for short), was the first boy he found. With precise, delicate fingers, Loki slipped the boy's boxers down his legs, then spread the potion onto his dick, trying to ignore the pleased moaning coming from the boy's lips.

But did he put on the _right_ potion? The one Steve was meant to share with Tony Stark? No, of course not.

Loki was a trickster, a mischief maker, and tricksters never purposefully help advance cute, loving relationships – not if they can help it.

Steve woke up the next morning, and stumbled into the shower, and the first person he thought of was Sherlock Holmes, because they were working on an English project together, and it all pretty much went downhill from there.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

"Hey, Cas," Jack Harkness said, winking sexually as he plopped down into a seat next to the boy in maths that morning.

Castiel slowly looked at the weird American, wondering what was going on. "Hello, Jack," he replied politely.

"You're certainly looking fine today," Jack went on, sliding his chair a little closer to Cas', "although you must be hot, with that huge trench coat on. Would you like me to … _take it off_ for you?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine," Cas said curtly, taking out his notebook.

"Are you sure? I'm quite skillful at … taking off coats," Jack persisted, resting a hand on Cas' shoulder. Sexually.

Cas tried to glare at him, tried to make it clear that he was _not interested_, but it was to no avail. Once Jack Harkness locked on a target, there was no stopping him until he made the kill. Jack went on flirting with Cas the entire class period, refusing to let him change seats, refuse his offers, or even get up to go to the bathroom.

At the end of class, Cas waited until the teacher wasn't looking, then slapped Jack hard, in the face. "I'm not interested," he said firmly, then collected his things and strode out.

In a bathroom stall, a couple of minutes later, he let himself sag against the wall like a wilting flower, his head falling to his hands.

"Dean," he whispered, "Dean, I'm sorry."

But Dean didn't care – he was too busy having wild, animalistic sex in a broom closet with a certain other master of sass and sarcasm by the name of Tony Stark.

And Jack sat at the same desk, holding his hand to his aching cheek with a strange sort of reverence as he wondered if that feistiness would carry over to Cas' behavior in bed.

And no one noticed that John Smith sat at the back of the room, his head buried in a book, blinking fiercely to hold back tears.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Tony and Dean arrived for lunch at different times, but with similar mussed hair, and similar scarves around their necks.

Cas didn't see it, as he was too busy avoiding Jack by hiding in the library, where he overheard Draco Malfoy talking to John Smith in an urgent whisper:

"John, do you have any job prospects for when you graduate?"

"I, ah, I haven't exactly thought about it …"

"Well, how would you like to work at my father's firm? We'd love you have you."

"You … you would?"

"Of course. You're certainly more than intelligent enough."

"I am?"

"Draco, stop making fun of John," Harry Potter cut in, his green eyes flashing.

Draco smiled his slow, lazy smile, the one that made him look like a snake that had been feeding. "I'm not making fun of him. I'm actually offering him a position at my father's firm when he graduates."

Shock, disbelief, and sudden depression passed over Harry's face in the space of a split second – and then, he didn't even have time to process this new development in his love life, because a paper airplane had hit its mark: namely, the back of his head.

Unfolding it, he found a heart with a smiley face, drawn in red marker. Somebody liked him.

Of course, it wasn't Draco. Draco was still flirting with – _flirting with_ – John Smith.

And Aang was poking his head out from behind a nearby bookshelf, his cheeks redder than a couple of the ripest strawberries.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Meanwhile, in the cafeteria, John Watson was feeling a little insulted.

THIS WAS CAUSED BY HIS COMRADE HAD MAKING THE DECISION TO SEAT HIMSELF AT A DIFFERENT TABLE TO TAKE HIS VICTUALS.

… Thor? How did _you_ get into this story? This is my story!

I ASPIRE TO NARRATE THE PART OF THE TALE THAT IS MOST PLEASING TO ME.

And what part might that be?

THE CAPSLOCK.

The … Oh, you mean Steve and Sherlock.

YES, I DO SPEAK OF THAT PAIR OF BOYS – NAY, MEN, BOTH SO TROUBLED IN THEIR LIFETIMES, AND HOW THEY FIND SOLACE IN EACH OTHER.

But they don't even like each other!

THAT IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE. I STILL PARTAKE IN THE BELIEF THAT THE BRIEF PERIOD THEY SHARED WAS THE GREATEST OF THEIR LIVES. SIMILAR IN NATURE TO THE INTERSECTING OF LINES, THEY MET ONCE, ONLY TO TRAVEL IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS FOREVERMORE, BUT THEIR INTERSECTION WAS GLORIOUS.

…

WHY DO YOU LOOK AT ME WITH SUCH DISDAIN, BROTHER OF MINE?

… You're weird.

MAY I TAKE THAT AS A COMPLIMENT?

… No.

YOU DISAPPIONT ME, BROTHER.

I guess you can narrate this part of the story, though. If you must. But please, be quick about it.

THANK YOU, BROTHER! YOU TRULY ARE THE MOST FAITHFUL, NOBLE BROTHER I COULD EVER ASK FOR.

Um … you're welcome.

AND SO, I BEGIN. IT CAME TO PASS THAT IN THOSE TROUBLED TIMES, A LUST POTION INFLUENCED THE HANDSOME YOUNG GENTLEMAN BY NAME OF STEVE ROGERS, AND IT ALSO INFLUENCED THE NOT SO HANDSOME, BUT BRILLIANT YOUNG GENTLEMAN BY NAME OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. THESE TWO HAD THE HONOR OF DINING TOGETHER DAILY, BUT THEY DID NOT USUALLY SIT SO CLOSE THAT THEY COULD PARTAKE OF THEIR VICTUALS WITHIN CONVERSING VICINITY OF EACH OTHER.

HOWEVER, UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF THIS POTION, STEVE FELT INSPIRED – NAY, COMPELLED TO INVITE SHERLOCK TO JOIN HIM, FOR A PRIVATE CONVERSATION AND A SHARING OF HOMEMADE COOKIES OF THE CHIPS OF THE CHOCOLATE THAT WERE SO SCRUMPTIOUS, THEY MELTED IN ONE'S MOUTH AS ONE ATE THEM.

IT IS AS YET UNKNOWN, THE MATERIAL THESE TWO YOUNG SOULS DISCUSSED AT LUNCH THAT DAY, BUT IT IS KNOWN THAT THEY WERE SO ENGROSSED BY THEIR CONVERSATION THAT NEITHER OF THEM NOTICED THE ROOM AROUND THEM, AND IT IS KNOWN THAT BOTH OF THEM SMILED THAT DAY AS THEY HAD NEVER SMILED BEFORE.

IT IS ALSO KNOWN THAT LATER, AFTER THE AFTERNOON CLASSES, SHERLOCK LED STEVE TO HIS ROOM, AND THEY PERFORMED THE INTERCOURSE. THE INTERCOURSE WAS SO GLORIOUS THAT –

Thor, you're done.

BUT I HAVE NOT FINISHED RETELLING THE INTERCOURSE!

We don't have time for you to retell the intercourse. Now, shoo.

I DO NOT WISH TO, AS YOU SO CRUDELY PUT IT, BROTHER, "SHOO."

I'll bake cookies with you later.

THAT IS ACCEPTABLE.

Good. Anyway, so, yes, Steve and Sherlock had this weird, totally unexpected soul mate situation happening, and John Watson was getting quite depressed, because everybody knew that he was madly in love with Sherlock.

Oh, and in a dark, emo corner somewhere, Zuko was violently kicking the wall because Aang was chasing after Harry, and Zuko was well known at that time to be _the_ most possessive boyfriend of someone he wasn't even actually dating yet that the school had ever known. Also, Zuko was pretty hot, and he always looked hotter when he was angsting, so he angsted frequently. It was just how the peasant operated.

I could go through all of the relationship mix-ups caused by Loki's incompetence, but I honestly don't have the strength to figure all of that out.

And besides, you don't need me to list those out for you to know that things were majorly fucked up.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

The next morning, in English class, Clint Barton was trying to sleep.

He was hungover, and exhausted, and he honestly didn't give a shit about Shakespeare, especially now that he only had about a month left of school. But as his eyelids drooped, his teacher's droning about love potions and mischievous faeries and mixed-up relationships melded in his head until he found himself daydreaming about the major drama going on at his school.

It wasn't like Clint himself was personally involved – he'd dated a girl once, decided he was gay, and hadn't really found anyone he thought was worthy of him yet – but he was friends with many of the Midgardians who were, and thought it was pretty strange. How could relationships that had been built over the course of four years been destroyed during one night?

What had the kind of power to change people's lives like that?

"Barton!"

Clint's eyes snapped back open to find his teacher glaring at him. "Care to elaborate on the figurative language in act two?"

"Um, sorry, but I haven't read the damn thing," Clint replied, grinning angelically.

The teacher sighed, used to this sort of behavior from seniors by now, and continued droning. But Clint had an idea.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

That afternoon, Clint skipped physics to climb to the top of the auditorium and perch on the roof – the highest point on school grounds.

"Oi!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth for maximum vocal strength. "I know there's someone up there laughing at us, and I'd like a word, if you please."

There was silence for a few moments.

"Show your face, you ninny, or I'll kick your ass from here into next Tuesday!"

It was the creepy laugh that he heard first, as the sky crackled and vomited a strangely dressed boy out onto the building next to Clint.

"I'd like to see you try," the boy laughed. He was tall, with luscious dark hair, the most handsome face imaginable, and majestic armor. His name? Loki Laufeyson.

(And I'm not just saying that because I'm biased. Stupid peasants.)

Clint, being Clint, wasn't really taken aback at all.

"Hey," he said. "Nice of you to show up."

"What do you request, peasant?" Loki asked.

"… What did you just call me?"

"Peasant. I'm a prince of Asgard, and you're a peasant. Deal with it, puny mortal."

Clint glared at him, but it didn't really help matters, so he tried to punch Loki.

Loki parried the strike, and considered punishing the peasant for hitting him, but … Something stopped him. The peasant was sort-of cute, in a lowly, peasant kind of way. And besides, he was sassy. Loki liked sass.

"What do you request?" he repeated his question.

"For you to reverse whatever sort of love mojo you've put on my friends," Clint replied.

"How do you know I'm responsible?"

"Strange, superhuman being, getting a laugh out of screwing with mortals' lives? That's so you. And besides, you look like you've been eating popcorn."

Loki laughed – for a silly mortal, he was pretty smart. "So, how are you going to persuade me to reverse it?"

"Because it really is not nice, or fair," Clint began, "to take away Holmes's loyalty to Watson, or Winchester's grudging admiration of Angelicus, or Kongqi's fascination with Huo, or Rogers and Stark's respect for each other. I guess it's funny to you, to see all of them scramble around, with Malfoy going after Smith going after Harkness going after Angelicus going after Winchester, but I actually know them, and to me, it's so not funny. They might not make out in broom closets, any of those guys, but they love and respect each other, and that gives me hope, and now you've taken that away, and I think you need to know that that is not okay. Screwing with people's lives is not okay, no matter how much power you have."

The god of mischief looked at this weird little mortal, with his earnest face and his determined eyes and his honest voice. He wasn't even part of any of the screwed-up relationships, and yet, somehow, he was more emotionally invested in them than anyone else.

Loki took a couple of steps closer to the peasant, to examine him more closely. He was serious – it was visible in his eyes.

"I'm not saying please," Clint continued, and there was a hint of steel in his voice, "and I'm certainly not going to kneel. But changing who people are in love with is like deciding that instead of cats loving cats, cats suddenly have strong feelings for dogs, while these dogs are obsessed with monkeys."

A long moment passed, in which both boys considered closing the gap between their faces.

Finally, Loki spoke: "Okay, I'll reverse it. I'm not an unreasonable person, (observe, Father, how I made peace with the lowly peasant) I just wanted to have a little fun, but I think it's time to fix things. Besides, I'd rather my father did not make the order for my dismemberment."

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost!" he shouted, and the air started to swirl around him.

But just before he dived into the portal, Loki looked back at Clint and winked. "You owe me the standard price for a favor, by the way."

"What's that?" Clint asked.

"A blowjob."

And Clint was left on the roof of the auditorium, wondering if he'd just found the type of man he was looking for.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Because Loki was as skillful in cleaning up messes as he was in spilling things (he had to be, or else Odin would have grounded him for life long ago), it wasn't difficult for him to remove the potions from their bearers. He didn't have any more of them to pair up the right people, but he knew it was no longer necessary.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

And the next morning, John Smith cornered Jack Harkness in an unused classroom before breakfast.

"Jack," John said, trying not to reveal how nervous he felt, "I really don't like it when you flirt with other people."

"Well, it's just me," Jack replied, a little confused and not daring to hope. "Flirting is what I'm good at, it's what I do."

"I know, but I really don't like it," John repeated. "You annoying git, do you have any idea how jealous it makes me?!"

Jack's eyes widened in understanding, and then suddenly he was pressing John against the door, thrusting his hands into the other boy's hair, whispering, "Oh, thank _God_," as he finally found out what quiet, bookish, English nerd tasted like.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Cas told Dean that he wanted to ask him about the math homework, and Dean knew it was such BS (especially as he could easily say that 2 + 2 was equal to 5), but he went to Cas's room anyway.

"Dean, come over here," Cas instructed, awkwardly patting the space next to him on the bed.

"Um, okay," Dean said, baffled but compliant.

"Dean, um … uh …" Castiel mentally berated himself – he was supposed to be _better _at this, supposed to be suave, supposed to be cool and seductive and sexy! But of course he wasn't, all he knew how to be was emotionless and annoyed and angry, he didn't know how to express feeling, he –

"Cas, what is it?" Dean asked, and there was something tender in his face that Cas just couldn't take any longer.

He leaned in and softly, hesitantly pressed his lips to Dean's.

"Was that … okay?" he whispered – because Dean looked more than a bit shell-shocked.

But then, he broke into a grin wide enough to swallow a demon from Hell, without injury. "More than okay."

And he let Cas kiss away the marks Tony had left on his skin until Cas had no doubts that Dean was his.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

"Tony."

"Oh, hey, Steve," Tony greeted his friend from his desk, grinning. "What's up?"

"Um, I was just wondering, uh …" Steve started, blushing furiously.

"Yeah?"

"What, um … What happened between … Between you and Winchester?"

Tony laughed. "I think the right question is what happened between you and Holmes."

If you thought Steve couldn't blush any more, you're wrong. "A bad decision," he replied, in a small voice.

"Good, because that's my answer, too."

Steve brightened. "Really?"

"Yes, really. There's honestly only one person I want to fuck, and he's standing right here."

"Don't say 'fuck,' it isn't proper," Steve chastised him, but he was across the room in two steps, and, really, thank _God_ Tony didn't have a roommate.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Aang was reading outside, enjoying the nice weather, when he felt someone slip down to sit beside him.

"Hey, Zuko," he greeted his friend with one of his famously adorable smiles. "How are you?"

Zuko shrugged. "Good enough, I guess. And you? Did you get that guy you were after?"

Aang looked confused for a moment, then blushed. "You mean …"

"Potter."

"No, no, no no no no!" Aang denied furiously. "Of course not! He's ... well ... uh ... Not really my type."

"Is your type, by any chance," Zuko started hesitantly, deliberately not looking at Aang, "possessive, depressed, always angry guys?"

"No," Aang replied, bravely grabbing Zuko's chin and forcefully making him face him, "my type is quiet, smart, brave, furiously passionate guys."

"O-oh."

"Like you," Aang added, just to make sure Zuko got the point.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

"Potter, I don't know why I even put up with you!" Draco exclaimed, exasperated with Harry's failure to memorize some history terms. He threw his hands in the air, nearly catching a low-hanging branch of the tree they were sitting underneath.

"Well, I don't know why I even put up with _you_!" Harry retorted.

"You're insufferable!"

"You're arrogant!"

"You're stupid!"

"You're a jerk!"

"Your face looks like a little kid pissed on it!"

"Your hair looks like a badly made wig for old guys!"

"…"

And then, they burst out laughing.

"Sorry," Harry choked out, between _incredibly manly_ giggles.

"I'm sorry," Draco replied. "I don't actually believe you're _that_ hideous."

"And your hair wouldn't be so bad, if it was mussed up more."

And then Harry decided that it was his job to do the mussing up, and the mussing up required making out to go along with it.

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

Studying late one evening in the library, John Watson looked up from his textbook to find a steaming cup of hot tea sitting in front of him, with a Sherlock behind it.

"Oh, hullo," John said, a little coldly. "Didn't see you there."

Ignoring the tea, he bent back to his book. But Sherlock had other ideas.

"John," the sociopath said, a note of pleading in his voice that John was sure he must have imagined, "take it. Please."

"You don't even know how to make good tea," John replied.

"But I can try! I know I've made some bad tea in the past, but I think I can get better – no, I know I can. Especially if you teach me."

John looked up, and – okay, maybe he wasn't imagining the pleading. "Are we still talking about tea?" he asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Is this an apology?"

Sherlock nodded.

John grinned – all his doubts flew out the window, not even stopping to wave goodbye.

"Come on, then," he said, standing up and grabbing Sherlock by the hand, "let's go make some tea."

**BREAK BEYOTCHES**

"Loki, you have done well. I was concerned for a period of time, but it is evident that the matter was happily resolved."

"I am glad that you think so, Father. Now, if I may ask one favor …"

"What is your request?"

"Could I take a second trip to Midgard? There's a conversation with one peasant that I don't consider to be over…"


End file.
